


a block of ice, a man that's debatably a shadow of his former self and a thermal stone walk into a bar...

by Stabbsworth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, someone gets frozen in a block of ice, they're not too happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabbsworth/pseuds/Stabbsworth
Summary: A particular Wilson got trapped in a large block of ice one time. It wasn't fun.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	a block of ice, a man that's debatably a shadow of his former self and a thermal stone walk into a bar...

A particular version of Wilson was not having a good day.

This particular version of Wilson had inadvertently been the victim of an unfortunately-timed Deerclops attack. And thus he'd ended up frozen.

It's also probably worth noting that this particular version of Wilson goes by Cival.

It took his campmates a bit of time to find him and his half-frozen body, and the startling lack of a ghost made them question what the hell was going on.

Logically, he should be dead, so where's the ghost?

Winona had the idea to place a campfire nearby. Parts of the icy prison began to melt.

It was a shock to his campmates to see him actually wriggle and writhe a bit. The warmth was definitely enough to melt the coating of ice across his body. Or, at least, the parts of his body that were exposed to the air. So far that included his head and neck, part of his right shoulder, and the entirety of his left arm and hand.

Winona was the only one that stayed throughout the night, piling wood and tinder on the fire and keeping it at a mildly dangerous level. Not something he'd expect from a closet pyrophobe, but he didn't comment on it.

Cival let himself droop a little, blearily focusing on the fire. It stung his eyes and he was certain that was because of the general light aversion.

He'd definitely decided that today wasn't a good day.

It bled into the next day, too. He wasn't sure when the sun had come up, but he was definitely aware of it as soon as it popped up from below the horizon.

He had to squint. The headache didn't particularly help matters -- if anything, it definitely made the light sensitivity worse.

He blinked, staring as William staggered along -- he was loathe to admit it, but he cared about the taller lad a little more than usual. The Deerclops attack usually left little to no healing supplies if they weren't kitted out with a great big field of trees for the Deerclops to destroy and inadvertently aggravate several Treeguards.

What he wouldn't give for a hug. Instead, he was subjected to an annoyingly cold and icy confine in the form of crystalline shapes. Solidified water.

He absolutely hated the Deerclops for daring to subject him to this.

Cival waited -- it's not like he had anything else to do, after all -- and he plotted to blow up the Deerclops next year. With gunpowder.

It took him a while to realize that his back felt warm. He swivelled his head around, trying to get a good look, and he discovered William holding a torch near enough to his icy prison.

He eventually realized that he was probably going to end up suffering from hypothermia once he got out. A recent revival left him with only the stubble of his beard. Rather frustrating, admittedly, he was relatively proud of how long he'd managed to grow it.

As night fell once again, he was made abominably aware that he can't sleep in this position. Instead, he got to watch as tiny beads of water drip from the pointy bits of the icicles that he's currently encaged in. Joy.

He doesn't know when the sun came back up again, and he doesn't particularly feel anything. He wanted to move. He desperately wanted to be able to move again.

The touch-starvation was overwhelming.

He also ended up having food shoved in his mouth. Frankly, he wasn't all too fond of that.

Cival licked at his lips and teeth to get the sauce off of them -- made from the regular berries, apparently. Or so he'd overheard.

A small chunk of ice fell from his prison.

He'd sleep when this was over. A long, deep sleep sounded nice. Maybe with a few friends. They probably wouldn't mind about him taking a bit longer to get up.

Cuddling with friends sounded much nicer than the deep sleep.

He wriggled a bit, finally managing to tear his right arm out of the icy prison. He couldn't help the elated cackle that eventually turned into a whine as the pain of frostbite set in.

He could hear something being chiselled at. A stone was placed in front of him, absorbing the heat from the campfire, and two of the campmates waited for it to turn orange before placing it as best they could near to his feet.

He still had to get the frostbite out of his hand first. Maybe it'd be salvageable. He didn't have the equipment or hands to give himself an amputation, and he needed that hand anyways.

Cival shifted, again, trying to get as close to the fire as his current position would allow it.

He'd be fine. He had gone through worse.

There was a slightly frustrated noise from him as he tried to move his fingers on his right hand.

He wasn't sure if he'd gone nonverbal out of pain or the lack of energy from staying awake for several nights. Probably some mix of the two.

He attempted it again, if only to get them a bit closer to the fire.

This was wildly painful and an experience he didn't particularly feel like repeating. Ever.

The rest of the days spent there were in some sort of haze -- he was sure it was due to sleep deprivation. He didn't even remember much of it. Or he refused to. Either explanation sufficed.

He definitely remembered being carried home by Winona. It was practically a piggyback ride.

He may or may not have been purring the entire way, finally contented to get some form of touch after going for…he was fairly certain it was a week. A week without being able to cuddle with anyone! What a travesty.

Cival was still mildly discontented at having to take it slow for the next few days after he was out of the ice cube, but didn't particularly bother defying the advice he'd been given. 

He was just happy to be able to run about and actually do things again. And he got surprisingly productive with tinkering after he regained proper use of his right hand. (Even if some of the nerves were finicky and liked to get trapped in a particular position.)

**Author's Note:**

> this is essentially a crackfic.


End file.
